


Cold War

by thedailygrind



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Growing Up, M/M, Post-lawsuit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedailygrind/pseuds/thedailygrind
Summary: Growing up, growing older. An interactive work of fiction.





	1. Chapter 1

0\. breaking point

It’s 2009 in Japan.

Jaejoong is starting to feel delirious as he watches the sun creep up the horizon again. For the third day in a row. 

Counting today, they've been awake  [sixty three hours and twenty nine minutes](https://dongbangdata.net/2013/03/04/trans-130227-jyjs-tearful-confession-about-their-past-we-could-do-nothing-but-lose-everything/) .

Jaejoong's not even sure where today begins or when it blurred into yesterday or the day before.

They’ve been doing this for months now; a grueling schedule consisting of tour upon tour, album recordings, interviews in both Japanese and Korean. He can’t remember a time he could breathe, think without a camera four inches from his face to catch every _human_ emotion, every sincere mistake.

They’ve schooled themselves so much in the art of acting that on the one vacation they have this year, Jaejoong sits at home and wonders why he can’t shake off the feeling he’s being watched.

“You can’t afford mistakes,” Manager-hyung chides, jaw clenched disapprovingly around the words. “The Internet is permanent, Jaejoong-ah.”

Yunho sits next to him, nodding dutifully, his hand a constant weight on Jaejoong's thigh, unconsciously restraining him from lashing out.  Their image as a band, their schedules, their time, their lives are all determined by one man they never see, who sits in an office in Seoul.

Yunho accepts this as part of their reality, all schooled, all charm and perfection. He lives for the industry; Jaejoong spends every waking moment finding ways to defy it.

“I can’t do this, Yunho-ya,” he murmurs softly, as the door clicks and they’re finally, blissfully alone. “I can’t live with them watching over our shoulders, waiting for the next screw up. This isn’t me. This isn’t us. I can’t fucking pretend anymore.”

Yunho glances around first, cautiously, then leans in, pressing a discreet kiss to Jaejoong’s hair under the guise of whispering into his ear.

_Please,_ Jaejoong thinks, _say something. Anything. Tell them to fuck off, tell them we’re not their puppets._

“It’s going to be okay,” Yunho says, the warm dulcet tones of his voice comforting. Jaejoong knows they really mean, nothing’s ever going to change. But we’ll deal, we’ll get through it.

Jaejoong is tired of the rehearsed answer.

Jaejoong is tired of the way their pretense seeps dark and ugly into his skin. Their life is golden, gleaming and empty. These are the thoughts Jaejoong has when he is too exhausted to suppress them.

Jaejoong opens his mouth but the eyebags around Yunho’s eyes are dark and heavy and his smile is brittle and Jaejoong decides he can carry this burden alone.

 

 

 

i. ammunition

It is a fuzzy memory of Tokyo. He remembers the studio, the yellow wallpaper and bright studio lights, beating down and baking his skin. They leaned against one another, shoulders casually touching.

The interviewer asks a question and Jaejoong leans forward, laughing, his hand brushes the back of Yunho’s carelessly as he gestures. But Yunho knows Jaejoong, and everything he does is purposeful, deliberate.

There’s a commercial break, Yunho smiles dutifully at the camera and nods as Jaejoong’s fingers skim the inside of his wrist.

The sun rises, filtering through the studio windows. The pink glow plays across Jaejoong’s features, softens the dark circles around his eyes, makes him look young and carefree again.

They’re back on. Jaejoong is smiling at the reporter, attention rapt.

Tentatively, his fingers brush Yunho’s under the table.

In a moment of rare stupidity, or recklessness, or both, Yunho reaches for his hand and [interlaces their fingers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyPQpvKPBEg) .

He doesn’t have to glance over at Jaejoong to know the smile on his face is echoed, right like summer sunshine.

Yunho doesn’t know why that’s the memory that replays in his mind whenever he’s too exhausted to stop his mind from wandering. It catches him off guard, this acute, empty feeling when he sits in their apartment, his sheets cold, his bed neatly made.

The sleeping pills stop working.

 

 

 

ii. consequences

The lawsuit turns ugly quickly. With speculation abound and the media outlet hounding every press conference, the rumor mill swirls and spits out lies and rumors, inciting fan wars and tempers.

Immediately, managers step in to handle the damage control. TVXQ is a household name now and  since they were the last to know, the two of them, hurt and betrayed, stick together.

_[So fucking selfish](http://loveintheicetearsinmyeyes.blogspot.com/2011/12/response-to-junsus-tweetsby-sm-family.html) _ , everyone murmurs around them, as if badmouthing Jaejoong, Yoochun or Junsu will make Yunho feel better. Yunho bites his tongue so he doesn’t accidentally defend them. Because regardless of legislation, they’re still his members, and he’s still their leader.

Even through the blinding rage, the disappointment, the fucking betrayal, Yunho can’t help thinking about them all the time.

Yunho barely registers the [tweets](https://omonatheydidnt.livejournal.com/5602281.html?thread=625022185#t625022185) printed out in front of him. There’s a prepared statement too for him to read off of, his manager says encouragingly, i _n case you can’t think of the right things to say_.

Yunho looks at the harsh comments, imagines Junsu’s face, eyes widening, expression crumbling as he stares at the screen.

Junsu had always been  [more than a brother](https://youtu.be/aAl0BbYKAOI?t=160) to him.

_”Maybe you should have thought of this, Jaejoong-ah,”_ Yunho thinks, angrily.  _Thought about all the people you'd hurt along the way. This is bigger than us now._

Jaejoong doesn’t hear him because he’s already fighting the next  battle; eyes on the horizon, casualties already forgotten.

 

 

 

iii. retaliation

The words that come out of his mouth at the  [press conference](http://hominstyle.blogspot.com/2011/01/homin-responds-to-jyjs-phone-calls.html) are empty and hollow. But the reporters don’t care; they eat it up, spinning into one dramatic story after another. Yunho turns off the TV, throws away the newspapers and lies on the big empty couch, feeling empty, spent, exhausted.

Alone.

Changmin doesn’t look at him as he enters the backroom, his eyes rimmed red.

When  [Jaejoong sends the first text](http://artofkimjaejoong.tumblr.com/post/16765007444/did-junsu-confess-that-yunjae-is-real) , Yunho deletes it without even looking. He wants to be angry, but he can’t.

Everywhere he looks Jaejoong is there. He’s in the scent of shampoo in the shower, the coldness in his bed, the fact that now in interviews, rehearsals there’s only him and Changmin, empty spaces no one knows how to fill.

Yunho deals with it the only way he knows how; he throws  himself into work. He goes to all the recordings. He sings over Yoochun’s lines, he wills away the muscle memory and re-memorizes the choreography to all their old numbers, this time with two members instead of five. And if they play an  [old version of ‘Maximum’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpOqFXzhJ0c) , Yunho ignores Jaejoong’s lovely voice, grits his teeth and dances, dances like the world is ending, because in a way it is.

It has.

Jaejoong, Yoochun and Junsu have moved on, they've made music, and Changmin and Yunho have been left behind.

[It’s taken a long time for Yunho to get to this point](https://youtu.be/ELnVVeDrLAA?t=382) , the waiting, the disappointment, the begging, the cajoling. The hoping its nothing but a bad dream and waking up to find he's still living it.

But he’s here now, and he’s not about to go back.

 

 

 

iv. casualty

Junsu takes it the hardest.

“How could they?” He asks, over and over again, “I thought we were Dongbangshinki. I thought we were playing for the same team.”

They had sat down and talked all night – what it would mean for the company, for them, for the group. Maybe Yunho hadn’t quite agreed, but when they had moved out of the apartment, they’d made  [promises](https://youtu.be/wVsK8ULC-mM?t=462) –  _this isn’t going to change us, this isn’t. We’re still going to be the same. We are five._

They had argued, Jaejoong had cried, Yunho had shouted, Yoochun had pleaded and Changmin had stormed out.

But the fact was, the five of them were brought together by a special kind of fate. And if there was something they could agree on it was that they had to  [stay together.](http://vivacioustvxq.wordpress.com/2009/08/28/dbsk%E2%80%99s-sweet-and-funny-quotes)

At least, that's what Yoochun had thought.

“Things change,” Yoochun tells Junsu, then softer, “come on, let’s not look at these reports.”

“Yunho-hyung. We’ve always. He’s always--”

_Protected us_ goes unsaid. Yoochun doesn’t have the words.

“I know.” Yoochun takes Junsu’s hand, and doesn’t say,  _it’s not his duty to protect us anymore. He needs to protect Changmin now_ .

Junsu glances up from the screen, eyes defeated. The realization dawns haunting and ugly in his eyes, and Yoochun turns away so he doesn’t have to see it.

“They’re not going to join us, are they?” Junsu says quietly.

Yoochun doesn’t say _we’ll be lucky if they even talk to us again_.

 

 

 

v. negotiation

They start a song writing war, Jaejoong with his quiet, desperate love melodies, his brittle apologies; a thousand and one ways of,  _[I’m sorry](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/nine-nine.html), [come back to me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_yFPQ5Wa3E), [don’t walk away.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFaIWEDQdHg)_

Yunho with his curt and unwilling replies, speaking more eloquently by swallowing the  [words and tunes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smQtywMA_nk) SM puts in his mouth. Dancing like a puppet on their strings. Yunho choosing not to leave, Yunho choosing to openly voice his support, Yunho  _choosing, always choosing them over him._

The radio silence is all the reply Jaejoong needs.

Jaejoong knows Yunho like he back of his palm, Yunho and his pride, Yunho and his fierce loyalty. Yunho who will never back down, Yunho who would get upset and need to be cajoled with warm lips and hugs and kisses. This is what Jaejoong tells himself when the texts he sends, the calls he makes, dead drunk in the middle of the night, high on liquid courage, when the songs he writes are met with stony silence.

Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe next month.

Maybe never.

It never stops hurting, but at least Jaejoong learns how to stop expecting an answer.

Eventually, Jaejoong starts giving his songs away. It hurts less knowing that Yunho isn’t steadfastly ignoring his efforts if they’re coming out of  [someone else’s’ mouth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XStm6w-JcCk) .

Still, he doesn’t stop writing.

 

 

 

vi. resolve

At first Yunho thinks he wants Jaejoong to leave him alone, so he can forget about the way he kisses, the way he feels, warm and pliant beneath him. The way he smiles, the way he talks, slow and sleepy in the morning. The way he’s demanding and affectionate one moment and recklessly thoughtless the next.

They’ve never been good for each other. Jaejoong’s always been the rebel and all Yunho has ever wanted is to live simply, fruitfully.

Normally.

But Jaejoong’s always wanted something more; always made him question and push and want. More, of everything. Anything. Want even things maybe he shouldn't have.

One night, right after they release their first album as just the two of the them, Yunho stays up all night listening to an old Youngstreet recording, a telephone call between them, and Jaejoong’s voice, warm and silky like liquid honey, saying his name  [yunhoya](https://youtu.be/BjrLkEBSSUM?t=92) , yunhoya, yunhoya over and over again.

Jaejoong makes him crazy, reckless, Jaejoong makes him feel alive.

Maybe, Yunho thinks wearily, it’s time to step back into reality.

 

 

 

vii. fall out

The lawsuit falls apart. Their album launches to a billion screaming, excited fans. It’s all they can do when they trudge into the restaurant for a celebratory dinner, relieved and giddy that it is all over.

“We’re going to be okay.” Jaejoong says, but he's smiling too widely, his eyes a touch too bright.

Yoochun pulls him into a hug.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I think we are, hyung,”

Jaejoong lets out a loud sigh against his chest, and Yoochun pretends not to notice as his shoulders shake, and huge wracking sobs tear through his body. Yoochun doesn’t know how long they stand in a hidden corner outside the restaurant, until Jaejoong slumps against him.

Yoochun offers him a cigarette and Jaejoong accepts it gratefully, bringing it to his lips with shaking fingers.

“Thanks,” he says.

They sit like, that, knees pressed against each other, Jaejoong holding on desperately to Yoochun’s fingers as he takes huge calming puffs of his cigarete.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Jaejoong says, quietly. He drops the cigarette, unfinished onto the floor, crushing it with the heel of his boot. “They aren’t going to forgive us.” 

Yoochun looks at the cigarette, the embers dying beneath Jaejoong's heavy boot and says nothing.

“They’re never coming back,” Jaejoong says finally. It's not a new realization, but somehow voicing it aloud makes it terrifyingly real. They will never be five  again .

Yoochun swallows past the lump forming in his throat.

“Give it some time,” he says, gently. “There’s nothing a little time and distance won’t heal.”

Jaejoong shakes his head, “That’s what I’m afraid of Yoochun-ah. It’s like we never happened at all.”

Yoochun wants to shake him, “if you don’t know how Yunho feels for you, you’re crazy,” he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“I’m done with this, Yoochun-ah,” Jaejoong says softly. “I’m done with this.”

Yoochun knows better than to ask, done with what, because he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

 

 

Jaejoong had been waiting outside his trailer, collar turned up against the rain, his hair dripping wet, he looked like he’d been waiting outside for hours.

Yunho steels himself, surprises himself by finding nothing. No emotion. Nothing. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Jaejoong says a little bleakly. The little muscle in his jaw jumps, Yunho wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been looking so hard. “You wouldn’t talk to me. I had to ask Heechul.”

“Its been a long day,” Yunho says, tiredly. The alcohol on Jaejoong's breath is overwhelming. “Please. Go.”

“Five minutes.” Jaejoong says softly, raising a hand when Yunho makes to protest. “Five minutes and I’m going to go.”

Yunho steels himself for a long speech, of Jaejoong begging and crying and apologizing, but Jaejoong just stares at him, eyes softening and unreadable. He studies Yunho’s face, lifting his fingers to Yunho’s cheek. The familiarity of the action almost makes Yunho flinch, but Jaejoong drops his hand before their skin makes contact.

Jaejoong's lips part, and he looks like he wants to say a million other things. It’s been three years, Yunho thinks and still, Jaejoong mixes up complicated feelings in him, feelings he doesn’t want to think about. Feelings he pushes to the back of his mind, but has to confront when they are here and now and staring him in the face.

Jaejoong takes a step forward.

“I know I fucked it up, Yunho-ya.” He says softly, the rain clings to his eyelashes like tears and Yunho wonders if they’re just one and the same. “I fucked it up, and I’m sorry. If I could go back and do it all again, you know I would choose you. I would have always chosen you.”

Yunho stands, watching him silently. All around them, the rain falls harder  drawing sleek rivulets down Jaejoong's hair and cheek and mouth.

“Yunho-ya,” Jaejoong murmurs, his tongue rolling over Yunho’s name, silky and warm . “God, Yunho, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Yunho’s not sure who moves first, maybe he does by cupping Jaejoong’s cheek, or maybe it’s Jaejoong who leans his forehead against Yunho’s, fingers digging into Yunho’s shirt. But then they’re kissing, lips warm against one another, Jaejoong takstes bitter like coffee and nicotine, but his mouth is warm and he feels familiar and safe like home, a long gone faded memory. Jaejoong pulls away first, fingers grazing Yunho’s cheek. “I love you,” he says softly, voice breaking. “but I can’t keep fighting anymore, not on my own.” He leaves, a shadow in the dying evening light and Yunho turns away so he doesn’t need to watch Jaejoong go.


	2. Chapter 2

vii. dust  
One day, three years later, Jaejoong stops.

No more melancholic tunes, no more desperate pleas, no more words that cut deep into Yunho’s conscience.

Yunho thinks he should be relieved.

But he’s not.

 

 

“Marry me,” he tells her. It’s autumn in Seoul, the leaves are turning red and gold behind them, the park is empty. He has a ring, it weighs heavily in his pocket; Cartier embellished in curling golden script on the red velvet box. He tries not to think about the last time he wore Cartier, [and what it had meant then, what it still means to him now.](https://moon1084.livejournal.com/55603.html)

She’s the Jeon Jihyun to his Cha Tae Hyun. She's the girl he's spent his life waiting for, [the one with long straight hair, the cold demeanor and blazing warmth](https://youtu.be/lw2AM00xgus?t=813). On paper they are perfect for each other.  And sometimes with her, he can laugh, smile and forget, even if just for a little while.

She looks so beautiful, more than she’s ever been, the dying sunset bathing her hair in its golden-pink glow, her eyes bright like the stars. So beautiful, Yunho almost doesn't think about the way her hair doesn’t fall quite right across her face, that her shoulders aren’t a little broader, that her eyes aren’t a little bigger. That she’s not neurotic, doesn't cook jiggae that's a little too spicy, that she doesn’t drive him absolutely, ridiculously, maddeningly crazy.

“Don’t,” she says softly, her voice echoing impossibly loud between the two of them.

“Why?”

“Thank you Yunho-ya, I needed someone and you came along at the right time.” She shakes her head, sadly. Out of habit, Yunho reaches to cup her cheek.

She smiles at him with watery eyes. “I wanted for this to work, so badly. But I think we both know this ring, it's not really meant for me.”

She leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to his mouth. “Find him, Yunho-ya. You’ve been hiding for too long.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Yunho looks at the ring box in his hand, curving his fingers around the cold box.

 

 

He drives around Seoul at night, his mind blank. The city lights are bright, and the streets are empty. He tries not to allow himself to examine his feelings too closely, afraid to find that he's less disappointed than he should be...that maybe he’s relieved.

The past four years, he’s been running on empty. Life goes on as it always has; the tours, the endless TV appearances, the music, the singing, the fans. They shift and merge into a ceaseless blur of empty memories. He can't remember why he's kept at it, can't remember the last time he was really, truly happy.

A familiar song comes on the radio.

[It’s Hug](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQ635vE2RQI). Yunho has heard this song a million times before -- the simple harmony, the soft cheesy pop tune, five overenthusiastic, shy voices -- but he's never allowed himself to pay attention to it. Now the song makes him ache inside, a memory of everything they had ever been, and of everything he's lost.

He goes home, the soft haunting melody of their voices playing at the back of his mind, and looks into the box he’d packed away neatly, memories from a lifetime ago he'd packed up and forced himself to erase.

He sits and really, really looks. Jaejoong is everywhere; warm golden skin in his bed, curled up in Yunho's lap watching TV, Jaejoong sitting on his kitchen counter, a warm mug of coffee in hand, his smile lazy and open.

The rush of feelings go to his head and Yunho has to sit down, chest heaving.

 

 

  
viii. awakening

“I’m glad you called, hyung.”

They’re sitting in a coffee shop off the main streets of Apkujeong, Yoochun’s beanie pulled low over his head.

“I have to see him, Yoochun-ah.”

“It’s not going to work, hyung,” Yoochun says, carefully. He doesn’t take his eyes off of his coffee cup, the rim sticky with the concoction, “he’s happy now.”

Yunho belatedly notices that Yoochun’s coffee is black. Yunho remembers the days they used to troop to Starbucks and Yoochun would have mocha lattes, pale and creamy.  It's a sign of things he’s missed over the years, obvious cues of their absences in each other's lives. No matter how magical they were all those years ago, maybe all of it is just a distant memory he can’t ever get back.

He has to try.

“Please.”

“I can’t.” Yoochun shakes his head slowly, “you don’t know-—you weren’t there. You don’t know how hard it was for him. Watching you, wanting you to come back. He was so sure you would, he waited for you for years."

Yoochun swallows. "Please, just give him a chance. He’s only just started seeing someone and he’s happy. Really, honest-to-god happy.”

The words cut through Yunho’s heart like a knife. It was probably stupid to have thought, that Jaejoong could have, would have still been waiting. They hadn’t talked in years, he doesn’t know, he realises, with an ache in his heart, who Jaejoong is anymore.

“I just want to see him,” Yunho says, voice gentle but insistent. “That’s it.”

Yoochun sighs, fixing his gaze on Yunho for a long, silent moment. He struggles with himself, then finally pulls out a single concert ticket from his pocket.

“Just, don’t hurt him again.”

 

 

ix. collateral damage

Yihan knows they’re [living](https://www.soompi.com/article/606237wpp/jaejoong-jin-yi-han-and-hong-suk-chun-make-a-friendly-trio-in-recent-selca) [on](http://jyjsoul.com/post/31518516430/jin-yihans-recent-interview-talks-about-kim-jaejoong) [borrowed time](http://i48.tinypic.com/2n9b1gw.jpg). But sometimes, when he wakes up to Jaejoong pressed warm against him in his bed, Jaejoong’s hair fanned out messily against the pillow, his wifebeater riding up to reveal a sliver of hipbone and stomach, he can't help hoping that maybe one day, Jaejoong will start wanting a little more.

It’s eight months in when Jaejoong starts cooking again. First it’s simple cinnamon baked cookies with warm brown sugar sprinkled on top. Then croissants, light puffy and flaky, filling the apartment with their buttery aroma. They stand over the oven, picking apart the pastries with their fingers, and Jaejoong leaves careless trails all over Yihan’s floor. But Yihan doesn’t mind. Not with Jaejoong perched on his conter, crumbs clinging to his lips, laughing.

The afternoon light bathes Jaejoong's honey brown strands in a warm glow, and Yihan can't help himself, he takes a step forward, then two. And then he stands, nestled between Jaejoong’s thighs, fingers landing gently on Jaejoong’s knee, stroking the soft skin there through his ripped jeans.  
   
Jaejoong doesn't move, doesn't stop laughing, so Yihan cups Jaejoong’s cheek, his touch feather soft and waits, waits for Jaejoong to pull back and laugh off the gesture as he always does, but this time Jaejoong does neither.

All Yihan remembers that day are soft lips, laughter and the warm smell of butter filling the room.

And the feeling that everything, _everything_ is finally falling into place.

 

 

  
x. compromise

Yunho comes halfway through the concert, his hoodie pulled low over his face. The girls there are already hysterical, their eyes fixated on the stage where Jaejoong is standing, practically ethereal against the glare of the stage lights.

Jaejoong's [hair is bleached blonde](http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7419/10636509223_4bdc522c88_o.jpg), [tattoos covering his exposed skin](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/86/da/ff/86daff65b594639b66ad47e703e67e2e.jpg), his eyes smudged with dark kohl. Yunho has never seen him like this, head thrown back, passionate and thrumming with life, just standing there, [singing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lixEEu5ft0) [like](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4mNzvQ6MDM) [his life depends on it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66tYFtIY5XY) [it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGGmilPOd0E).

Jaejoong deserves to be free.

And now he is, Yunho has never seen anything more [beautiful.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFsAIOcEpaQ)

 

 

xi. truce

It’s been more ten years since their debut, and since then, Yunho has stood outside tens of thousands of waiting rooms like these. Nondescript and small, but he has never felt like this, jumpy, afraid, nervous.

He stands there, watching the staff bustle in and out, fussing over clothing racks and make up. He sees flashes of Jaejoong in the waiting room as the door opens and shuts, the soft sound of his laugh.

He’s berating himself, when an older man walks out a few moments later,  with a kind smile. “Sorry, Jaejoong’s done for the day. Did you need something?”

“No. No,” Yunho says with a forced smile. “I just... wanted to congratulate him on the concert.”

“I’m done cleaning up—"

The door opens and Jaejoong steps out, his hair damp with sweat, his eyeliner smudged against his cheek, his frame pale and gaunt and underfed. He’s older, they all are and it shows in his face, the creases in his forehead, the bags heavy under his eyes. But despite it all, he still takes Yunho's breath away.

Jaejoong is still looking at the other man with a fond smile.

He smiles back, reaching a hand to brush the hair out of Jaejoong’s eyes, a gesture that makes Jaejoong duck his head and smile.

The familiarity of the gesture makes Yunho’s heart break.  Jaejoong does look happy.

“Come on, we’d better get going,” the other man says, taking Jaejoong’s hand in an easy gesture that suggests the gesture is common to them both, and not a secret. Jaejoong finally turns to him with a shallow bow. “Thank you for coming."

And for that one suspended moment, Yunho realizes this is it. That if he doesn't act now, he'll lose Jaejoong forever. He _can't_. Not without trying.

Recklessly, he reaches for Jaejoong's hand, just as the other man is turning away.

"Jaejoong ah," he begins, but then Jaejoong turns around, and their eyes meet and then the words die in Yunho's throat, because he has none. Not when Jaejoong is alive and real and palpable in front of him, not when he's so close Yunho can practically--.

“Yunho?” Jaejoong says, breathlessly.

His eyes say a million different things all at once, _why are you here? what? how? thank you, thank you for coming._ and maybe even, _i love you_.

“I saw you sing,“ Yunho says, lamely.

Jaejoong’s eyes light up.

“You. You did?” he asks, dazed. Unconsciously, he steps closer, and Yunho responds in turn.

"Jaejoong," Yunho murmurs softly, and pulls him into a [bone-crushing](https://youtu.be/m13jo3_sEug?t=161) hug. Jaejoong is here and real and warm, and he _fits_ perfectly in Yunho's arms.

Jaejoong pulls away a few seconds later, his cheeks flushed red but he's laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the strength of the emotion.

“Yunho ya,” He laughs, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it's like he never stopped saying it. “Have coffee with me?”

_“Don’t hurt him again."_

_“It’s time to stop running, Yunho-ya.”_

“Yes,” Yunho says and pulls him close again, burying his face into Jaejoong's shoulder. “Yes. I’d love to.”

 

 

It happens one day, five months later, there’s a man standing outside Jaejoong’s waiting room, his hands shoved into his pocket, nervous.

Yihan watches the realization dawn on Jaejoong’s face, sees the light come back in Jaejoong’s shuttered eyes, sees him glow warm, and happy, and alive for the first time in forever.

And he knows it's finally over.

 

 

xii. reconciliation

They spend the evening talking about everything and nothing.

The conversation flows between them as it always has, easy and comforting. They talk, they laugh, and through it all Yunho never takes his hand off Jaejoong's thigh, almost afraid he'll disappear if he does.

Yunho had forgotten what it was like to bask in Jaejoong’s sunshine. But now he's here, its addictive and wonderful and all Yunho can think about is how much he wants to kiss him.

Jaejoong’s eyes bright under the lights suddenly soften.

“Yunho ya," Jaejoong murmurs, voice tentative and worried, "Why are you really here?”

Yunho looks at the piano, theres a thin layer of dust on it, suggesting it hasn’t been touched for a while. It's a shame.

“Play me something?”

“I don’t really—“ Jaejoong starts to say, and then sighs when Yunho grins at him, and relents with a soft, exasperated laugh. “I could never really say no to you.”

The [tinkling of the piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAHfZBM9KVQ) fills the room, the chords soaring and brilliant and nostalgic. It feels like a lifetime ago they stood like this, singing on an incredibly large stage, just five boys and one incredible, impossible dream.

As the song finally comes to an end, the room fills with silence, almost painful in its magnitude.  
   
“Jaejoong--” Yunho begins.

But Jaejoong just shakes his head, pressing a finger to Yunho's mouth.

"It happened a long time ago," he says, and when he glances up, his eyes are hazy with unshed tears, "let’s not. It’s not worth it. You came back.”

"I was such an idiot--"

"Don't," Jaejoong says, voice soft and husky. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

They look at each other for a long moment; Jaejoong's eyes soft and patient, his hair golden under the soft yellow lights. The way he looks, tentative, afraid, grateful. Yunho reaches to smooth the crease from his forehead, and thinks about how much he'd like to kiss him.

Maybe Yunho moves first, his fingers curving around Jaejoong's cheek, or maybe Jaejoong does, moving the slightest inch so they're pressed against each other, nose to nose, breath to bated breath.

"Can I?"

"God, yes."

Jaejoong tilts his head and then all Yunho remembers is fireworks.

 

 

xiii. ground zero

They relearn each other all over again. Time has changed them both, and where Yunho was expecting to find rash, impulsiveness he finds long silences he can’t read, and a perpetual sadness in Jaejoong’s countenance.

Some nights they fight. But not as they did once, loud and angry. They tiptoe around each other, tentative, hiding behind formalities, etiquette. Like strangers too polite to hurt the other's feelings.

He can’t find Jaejoong’s coffee cups, or his forks, or plates. Jaejoong apparently has started to use the dishwasher as more than a drying rack, so Yunho opens up the machine and grabs dirty utensils sometimes without even thinking. Jaejoong doesn’t sleep on his belly anymore. Jaejoong has far more tattoos than Yunho remembers there being.

Jaejoong still cooks for five though, and the thought is comforting enough that it makes Yunho smile.

They’re strangers now. But sometimes, Yunho sees flashes of the boy he loved, in the way Jaejoong leans against the kitchen counter, hip cocked as he browses the newspaper. In the way his neck strains when he sings, in the way he glances up at Yunho from under his glasses, smile mischievous and secretive.

They’re strangers now, but Yunho finds himself falling hopelessly in love with Jaejoong all over again.

Slowly at first, and then all at once.

It’s in his little quirks and mannerisms. The way he curls up against Yunho, yawning on the couch. The way Yunho comes back some days to find Jaejoong asleep on his baby grand, sixteen pages of sheet music strewn around him. It’s the way Jaejoong still knows what to say when Yunho's world feels like its crashing down around him. It’s the way Jaejoong looks at him, and Yunho knows he’s finally, finally home.

Jaejoong kisses differently now, past impatience melting away to something deeper, gentler, more patient. Jaejoong’s kisses are a slow burn, a long scorching sensation that frays Yunho’s nerves and leaves him desperate and gasping for more, always more, more.

Jaejoong moves differently, _sounds_ different _feels_ different. Yunho tries not to think about all the reasons why he is, all the people that have seen Jaejoong like this, spread, wanton and so fucking beautiful.

They learn to love each other all over again, but better this time. When they fight, there are no overs, or angry storming outs, no tears, no ends, no let's give ups.

They fight the same, but now they both recognize when it's time to put away pride in lieu of something a little bit more important; to recognize that arguments are temporary, but that some things are not. Some things like love.

One night, when Jaejoong is snoring softly into his lap, the realization hits him hard and honest and obvious. Maybe at twenty four they were imperfectly in love, and they needed this, all of this, to become the people they are now; for Jaejoong to become a little less selfish, for Yunho to become a little less afraid.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaejoong asks sleepily, three months later, face tucked into Yunho's skin, his fingers curled possessively around Yunho's bicep.

The scene feels familiar, and Yunho gets a sense of déjà vu, like he’s seen this soft light in Jaejoong’s eyes before, so many years ago. That he wants to wake up with the sun in his face and that soft light in Jaejoong's eyes, every morning for the rest of his life.

“You.” Yunho murmurs, honestly, pressing a soft kiss to Jaejoong's long hair. “And how I’m never going to lose you again.”


End file.
